


A Good Year

by gonetoarcadia



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Birthday Party, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonetoarcadia/pseuds/gonetoarcadia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony decides to throw Steve a birthday party and isn't going to let a bit of healthy disagreement stop him. Anyway, he has Agent Coulson on his side, and the man <i>really</i> wants to buy Captain America party favors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Year

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/5102.html?thread=4268526#t4268526) in the Avengers kinkmeme.

"Stark, have you _seen_ the man’s psych eval?"

"See, that’s exactly why we should have a party. The man is turning 180 for god’s sake –"

"– please don’t exaggerate on this one, Stark, it’s a touchy subject –"

"– which is exactly why we shouldn’t put him in an old folks’ home. You don’t want to put him in an old folks’ home do you?"

"That is not what I –"

"So we’re agreed then. What kind of theme do you think this party should have?"

Fury ground his teeth together before turning towards the third man in the conference room.

"Agent Coulson, can you _please_ talk some sense into Mr. Stark here before I skip the formalities and have him thrown bodily off the eighteenth floor?"

"Now that’s just hurtful, Director –"

"STARK."

There was a beat of silence, and then Agent Coulson gave Director Fury a look that was almost apologetic. It was the closest Tony had ever seen him come, anyhow.

"Well... sir, maybe it wouldn’t be a terrible idea. They must have had birthday parties in the forties, so as long as we kept it traditional... maybe it would make him feel more welcome.”

Tony, in all his magnificence, swiveled his chair and stood up in one grand gesture, throwing an arm out which he quickly wrapped around Agent Coulson’ shoulders.

"Phil, my man, this is exactly what I’m talking about. I’m so glad someone –"

"Please stop touching me."

"- understands me around here." Tony didn’t miss a beat, although he did quickly remove his arm from Coulson’s person. "This is wonderful. Don’t you think this is wonderful? I’ll tell you what, Phil, you can be on party favours duty, how about that?"

Fury looked like he was trying not to have an aneurysm.

"Stark if you hire Rogers a stripper –"

"I wouldn’t worry about that –"

"- or MULTIPLE strippers, I will personally shoot you myself. Point blank."

"Fine, fine, duly noted. Rogers will be stripper free for his birthday. Although I really think you should define the term ‘stripper’, because I am not going to be held responsible if a non-professional starts taking off their clothes in his general vicinity –"

"Basic, Stark. And wholesome. If this shows up on the news I want good press for once in my life. Can you do that?"

"Whatever you say, Director. Little known fact – basic and wholesome are actually my middle names. You can look that up on the internet."

Producing a pair of orange aviator sunglasses from somewhere in the recesses of his jacket, Tony gave them both his most shit-eating grin before heading for the door.

"Remember, Phil. Party favours. Very important job."

Once the door had closed after Stark, Fury and Coulson shared a look between them that basically summed it all up. The key difference between this and every other time was that Coulson also looked slightly chagrined. Fury sighed and rubbed his temple.

"...you want to go get started on the list of party favours, don’t you?"

"Oh, well, sir, of course it’s always a good idea to keep on top of your task list and –"

"Just go plan a goddamn party and make sure Stark doesn’t send Rogers into even more intense therapy, alright?"

"Yes, sir."

A moment later Coulson hurried out the door Stark had just exited through, a slightly manic gleam in his eye.

* * *

Planning parties was something Tony Stark excelled at. Or at the very least, _facilitating_ the planning of parties was something he excelled at. Technically speaking he had other people that he paid to do the real work. Not that parties weren’t exciting or important, or that Captain America’s first birthday party of the twenty-first century didn’t deserve his full attention. It was just that there were a lot of people who relied on steady employment for the income they needed to get by every month, and many of them worked in the party planning industry. Really, if you looked at it that way, he was a humanitarian.

Something he was having a great deal of trouble convincing Pepper over the phone.

"Tony, this is a terrible idea. You need to rethink this plan before someone gets seriously hurt."

"Come on Peps, where’s your spirit of adventure?"

"Lost somewhere in Monaco, as I recall."

"Monaco? That is a great place. We should go back there sometime. Do you think we should have Steve’s party in Monaco?"

"No, Tony, I’m one hundred percent certain that we shouldn’t."

"You’re right, too sunny this time of year. Perfect taste as usual, Pepper. What about Vienna, I hear it’s lovely in the spring –"

"Tony, no, listen to me, you need to stop what you’re doing right now –"

"I guess we could always just have the party in Miami, but if we’re doing that then we’ll have to book a few guest houses because of the renovations. Make sure you get this down Pepper –"

"- I have been on the phone with caterers all morning trying to explain that you are off your rocker -again - without saying it in a way that will cause stocks to drop, and do you know how hard that is, Tony?"

"You are a saint, and I really need you to take notes for me right now."

"Phil came in this morning and delivered approximately six tonnes of red, white and blue streamers. What am I supposed to do with those?"

"Use them to spiff up the office. I hear patriotism is very in this year."

"I’m not the only one who thinks this is a bad idea, you know. Steve deserves better than you steam rolling all over everyone in the name of his birthday. In fact Natasha said –"

"Wait. Back up. Natasha? Did you tell Agent Romanov about this?"

"Of course I did. At least sometimes you listen to her."

"That’s because she’s terrifying. Thank you, Pepper. I hope that when I turn up dead in a ditch that you feel terrible about it. And you carry my death around for the rest of your life and never get married because you’ll always have the memory of me and really, how can anyone ever –"

"Stark. I need to talk to you."

This voice was not Pepper’s, nor did it come from the phone. Tony didn’t need to turn around to see Captain Steve Rogers’ extremely unimpressed face in order to know what was waiting for him.

"Dammit, Romanov," he muttered before hanging up the call on a spluttering Pepper.

* * *

Of all the possibilities Tony had conjectured for the trajectory of his day, this had definitely not been one of them. He wasn’t entirely sure how the man managed it, but Rogers always seemed to manage to throw an unexpected spanner into the works. It probably had something to do with the whole ‘kept on ice for seventy years’ thing. It was bound to addle anyone’s brains.

Rogers, standing with his arms on the railing that spanned this part of the roof of the newly rebuilt Stark Towers, was watching the skyline while the wind whipped around him and ruffled through his hair.

"I honestly don’t care if you throw your party," he said, and Tony felt quite pleased with this turn of events. "Just make sure to give me a heads up so that I can be elsewhere."

Tony suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Some people could be such drama queens.

"This is not the spirit at all, Cap. You are just making it even more abundantly clear that you need a little fun in your life."

The look the good Captain shot him was not endearing anyone to anyone.

"I can’t help it if my birthday doesn’t really make me want to have fun this time around."

Intolerable. Really. Forget Pepper, he, Tony, was the saint.

"That’s what birthdays are for," Tony began to explain slowly, trying to be gentle but coming off more like he was speaking to a small child. "It’s a day all about you, so why not enjoy it? I understand that not everyone in the world can be as fully self-centered as I am, but what’s the harm in being the centre of attention for one day?"

"That isn’t what birthdays are for, at least not the way I remember them."

"Oh? By all means, please elaborate."

Although Rogers undoubtedly caught the heavy sarcasm, he clearly chose to ignore it.

"Birthdays back home, they were about celebrating being alive for another year. About being together with the people you loved."

"Pretty sure that’s Thanksgiving –"

"Tony –"

"- and Christmas and Veterans and Memorial Day. Come on, Cap. This mopey look doesn’t suit you at all." Walking over to stand next to Rogers, Tony rested the sleeves of his blue pin-stripe suit on the railing and ran his eyes across the horizon, mentally ticking off all the different buildings. "Newsflash, Captain America, but you are in fact in the year 2012, and we like to celebrate people’s birthdays."

"You really don’t get it, do you?" Rogers turned slightly toward him, and he actually looked vaguely incredulous. "And they told me you were a smart guy."

Okay, that was below the belt.

"I think you’ll find that I’m actually –"

"Stark, every day, every hour that I’m alive is a day, an hour longer than everyone else I... than the whole world I had. All the people who loved me and cared I was alive are dead. So birthdays? Days to mark entire years? Forgive me if that doesn’t seem particularly _fun_."

Tony found himself rather uncharacteristically with nothing to say.

For a long while they just stood and watched, and birds wheeled their way overhead while the sun glittered off glass and reflected the city back at them. Steel and wall-to-wall windows reminded Tony of how much his New York wasn’t the one of the 1940s, but they also reminded him that that was never all there was to it. Nothing changed entirely. His fingers started to tap against the rail.

"Steve, what about…"

* * *

"Order up, Cap!"

Tony buzzed past Bruce, bee-lining straight for Steve.

"What am I making?"

"Rhodey’s only had two burgers, and I told him that if he didn’t eat at least four you’d be offended and never speak to him again so don’t make a liar out of me here."

Steve laughed, and reached for the large plate sitting next to the grill.

"Anyone else?"

"I’ll have another!" Agent Coulson answered, from where he was very carefully cutting the large double-layered cake into manageable pieces.

"I’ll take one too," Natasha added.

"Where are you putting these?" Tony complained, picking up one of the Captain America paper plates and heading towards the cake. "And where are the candles? I specifically told Pepper we needed candles."

"Candles right here!" Clint yelled from inside, and a moment later he appeared with a box of red, white and blue candles that somehow also had Captain America on it. They matched the streamers rather nicely. Agent Coulson beamed proudly, while Clint busied himself with opening the box. "How many are we using, anyway?"

"Five," Tony informed him gravely. "One for each of Steve’s mental years."

"Pretty sure that’s you, Stark!" Steve called back at him, and Clint laughed as he started placing a random number of candles onto the cake, not even bothering to count.

"For your information," Tony began, "I am mentally fourteen, trust me on this one. I’m absolutely certain that five years olds never think about-"

"Shut up," Natasha told him. "It’s time to sing happy birthday."

Thor had the lighter, and in a moment all the candles were lit and Steve was still standing by the grill wearing the Kiss-the-Cook apron Tony had gifted him with, only now he was also wearing a large smile that almost edged into a grin. He crossed his arms and leaned back as the group cleared their throats. There was a beat, and then –

"Happy birthday," Bruce started alone, and then, realizing, stuttered into awkward silence. At which point everyone began to laugh, and the singing began for real.

Later that night, after the third or fourth slice of cake and definitely as many beers, Tony slung an arm around Steve’s shoulder and handed him a card.

"Happy birthday, Cap," was all he said before he was bustling off to wow someone else with his theories about what Clint and Natasha did on their days off. Steve moved away from the small but increasingly boisterous party, wanting to stand close to the sky and the open air - just for a quick breather. He paused and leaned against the rail, opening the card. After a second he closed it again with a laugh, making a mental note to put it on his desk later when he got home.

_(Happy birthday from one person who’s glad you’re alive here and now.)_


End file.
